


Sail with me into the dark

by BlissBasket



Category: Hell or High Water- SE Jakes
Genre: M/M, Secondary characters get their own ship, no beta reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-27 07:41:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/976208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlissBasket/pseuds/BlissBasket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cillian has got a mission, and for this one he doesn't work solo but  with an agent of Extreme Escapes. And it's not Prophet...<br/>Their partnership could have unexpected consequences for the two agents.</p><p>(Warning: since I never intended to write a full story but rather a series of shorts on Mal&Cillian, this story is focused on their relationship and not really on any mission. Don't expect a deep plot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> After reading Catch a Ghost, I've been convinced to see the potential of a relationship between two awesome secondary characters, Mal and Cillian (let me know if you found their last names, I've looked but came with nothing.)  
> This is my take on them, I just wanted to write a few shorts about them because they were doing a lot of naughty things in my head. I think about writing a third part in a few days but you can read them separetely (It's very short though). I hope you enjoy it!

Cillian turned around, startled by the man walking soundlessly behind him.  
It was something that happened very rarely to him. But his intel had signaled this guy as a master at silence. This sentence had a double meaning apparently, not just the expression of a twisted sense of humor.

Mal smirked, apparently satisfied by his little effect. It wasn't the only effect he provoked in Cillian, judging by the sudden tightness of his pants.

Cillian swore to have another of these smiles. A real one, without an ounce  of sarcasm. A smile expressing the satisfaction of the man.  
The only thing he'd wear, while he'll be on his stomach, boneless, panting, his body stretched on Cillian's sheets; Cillian wishpering in his ear with this english accent who turned on so many of the guys he took to bed.  
Cillian smiled slyly, shaking sightly his head. Almost like he has read Cillian's thoughts, Mal darted  his red tongue, licking slowly his bottom lip.  
Cillian's eyes scanned appraisingly the length of his body, imagining his own tongue following the path of the tattoos he could see under the dark clothes, a tempting glimpse of color appearing between the hem of the black t-shirt and the tight jeans. The other man's hands messing up with his suit, playing with his tie, slowly undressing him, his teeth used to untie the buttons, the tongue opening up a path through the layers of clothes....

Cillian's eyes went back to the man's face, well aware that his desire was now filling the room " Ready for this mission?"


	2. Scream my name

Cillian leaned forward, his teeth grazing Mal's ear lobe. “What a shame that you can't scream my name.” Mal glared at him, managing to raise his middle finger, his fists clutched around the headboard, the wrists bound to the wooden ornements.

Cillian had wanted to shag him since the beginning of the evening. 

But he was enough of a professional to know that bathrooms on an undercover mission were not the best place for it. Fun places, yes but they had a bloody tight timing for this one. And he hasn't been sure the other man was up for it. So they gathered informations and drank champagne while Cillian stared hungrily at the vision of Mal in a suit. A black suit of course, opened up enough to show a hint of tattoo. The tie had been discarded, thrown violently on the floor and Cillian had seen this gesture as a delicious promise of pleasures to come.

Always adept of the old saying “you never know who will shoot you tomorrow”, he was going to suggest a debriefing in his bed but Mal surprised him, throwing him on the floor, clearly angry. Cillian had observed him enough to know it was the way his features were always set, some kind of protection that Cillian intended to drill into. Right now it seemed like he wasn't the only one turned on by Armani suits; the fingers wrapped around his tie and neck and the other man's pants rubbing against his hips convinced him that the bathroom quick fuck would have been a waste of the gorgeous body pushing against him.  
“Come on darling, my bed is more comfy than this floor and you'll need something to hold onto.” At the raised eyebrow of the other man, Cillian smiled wolfishly “ Bedroom is this way.”

He has reached his goal for the night but, for the first time in years, Cillian wasn't sure who was in control. He had Mal the way he desired him, stretched out on his bed, tied up, the taunting body offered before him. And Cillian had the distinct impression that he had been played by the other man. Mal was smirking at him, the tattoos moving with each languid movement of his muscles while he bite at his lower lip. The anger replaced by a lascivious friction against the sheets, slight brushes against Cillian's arms and legs, every move taunting Cillian, seeking contact without never being a real touch.

The guy was teasing him. 

 Cillian was always ready for a  challenge. Especially one taking place in the bedroom.  
He attended to follow the path of ink, using it like a personnal map for his tongue, stopping to pratice his right to teasing by sucking lightly the nipples, biting them gently,  smiling to himself when they got hard.  
The salty taste of the coloured skin under his tongue was tasting even better that his fantaisies of the evening. He pressed his nose against the hard ridges of the warm body under him, his tongue circling around the other man's shaft, lazily licking at the tender skin on his tight.   
He had put each hand on his hips, not really touching him, his fingers caressing lightly at the design of a tattoo. He leaned forward, his chin on the left tight, darted his tongue to tease with a lick at the base of the thick dick. 

Raising his head to meet the other man's eyes with a smirk, letting him know that Cillian was a top player in the teasing game, he froze when when his eyes met an unfathomable velvety pit instead of lashes almost closed with anticipation.  
The intensity of Mal's gaze, piercing through him, reading all his emotions the same way he would read a report , absorbing, analyzing, commiting every details to memory; this weight and gravity surprised Cillian.   
Not because of the man, he already saw how clever he was, how attentive to his environment and the people around he could be. He had no other choices , it was too easy for people to pretend he was stupid and weak because he couldn't speak.

No.What surprised Cillian was his own reaction. 

He felt relaxed. Not safe because a man like him would never feel safe until the day he died but for a few moments, despise the rush of blood urging him to stop thinking, he felt at ease, allowing himself to close his eyes in anticipation as he took the tip of the other man's dick between his lips.


	3. I'm amazed I still have air to breath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the last part of my ficlet featuring Cillian and Mal, this one is from Mal's POV. I really had fun with these guys.

Mal didn't fall asleep. He dozed off, he had to admit that. The guy was good, too good. Mal didn't like feeling so easy to read, so vulnerable to someone. And here he was, lying in the bed of a spy. Mal wasn't a good guy either, but he tried to stay away from the spooks. He was allergic to authority, and government agencies were like the guard dogs of the nation. Yeah, and he was in bed with one of them. _Well done, Mal, really well done._  
And what was he doing in bed with this guy anyway? It was his number one rule, you never fall asleep after. Under no circumstances. And what did he do? He let himself be handcuffed while the man's tongue played with his dick. At least they hadn't cuddled. 

He looked at the man beside him, oddly peaceful with the sheets wrapped up around his legs, a slight hint of sarcasm always present in the curl of his lips.  
 _Shit._  
Mal wanted a cigarette. Just to fuck with the tidiness of this perfect place. He wanted to stub out his cig on the white couch of this guy, make a hole in it. But he also didn't want to wake him, to look into his eyes and remember his hands on him, the tickling of his tongue on his ink, _Cill_...  
Sometimes Mal was glad he couldn't speak, it saved him from doing stupid things, like moaning the Brit's name... _Cill_... Fuck Cillian! Fuck him! He almost laughed at himself while lighting his cigarette. _How long since someone else made you angry for giving you good sex, buddy?_ Clearly british flavor wasn't right for his brain.

 

The breathing behind him had altered. He was perfectly aware that, whether or not he would ruined the furniture with a butt cigarette, Cillian was awake. And the guy probably wasn't wishing for a last encounter either. Hell, for all he knew, the guy was mad from the lack of cuddles. Or he wasn't used to having someone else in his bed anymore than Mal was used to waking up in someone else's.

But it wasn't said that he couldn't put on a show before leaving. He picked up his clothes, positionned himself in the perfect spot for Cillian to watch him behind long lashes almost closed and, very slowly put his clothes on. The street lights and cars' low beams were projecting shadows on his body, illuminating his abs, uncovering slowly the tattoos that the man in the bed had thoroughly licked.  
He had put the cigarette between his lips while he got dressed, wincing when he felt dried blood on his bottom lip. He liked a good biter and Cillian was wearing his marks as well, more specifically on his butt and right shoulder.  
Mal smirked, the light of the cigarette projecting shadows on his face, conscious of the way his muscles played in the half-light.  
He bent a last time on the bed to retrieve his boxers, his pants already on, deliberatly teasing Cillian by letting him know he was going full commando.  
He brushed Cillian's tight with his hand, the sheet not thick enough to prevent his warmth to spread against Cillian's thigh , lowering his head to blow the smoke against Cillian's hair.  
Okay, he had to be honest with himself, he did it to smell the other man one last time.  
It made him horny and angry, an explosive cocktail and Cillian seemed to know exactly what buttons to push on Mal. He let his nose nuzzled against Cill's cheek one last time before he sharply bit his earlobe, shaking with silent laughter when the man made a involontary move.  
Then in one fluid motion, he left the bedroom, stubbing out his cigarette on the couch and disappeared into the city.


End file.
